breakthrough
by astarisms
Summary: Princess Natalie is assigned a new guard, and while his job is to keep her safe in and out of the palace walls, she's determined to break through his. Giveaway prize on tumblr!


She's 18 when he's assigned to her, and he's all edges — his cheekbones and his eyes alone could cut her deeper than the sword at his side and the daggers hidden in his boots, she's sure.

Her father assures her he'll take good care of her, and Natalie smiles and curtsies, thanking him for his service. He meets her eyes and inclines his head in what she believes is supposed to be his take on a bow.

She doesn't mind what many would consider a lack of respect, she's actually secretly a little grateful for it. She's never been comfortable with the idea of people having to give her a show of respect before she's properly earned it.

The king claps her new guard on the back, and he doesn't budge. Alex beams.

"You're in good hands," he assures Natalie, kisses her forehead, and takes his leave.

xxx

It's been a few weeks, and her newest company hardly speaks. He is every bit the shadow he's rumored to be — unseen, unheard, but always at her back.

Despite the whispers, she hasn't heard his name dropped even once. And she's not particularly a fan of this whole "unseen, unheard" business. She had some deeply rooted desire to be a friend of everyone, and her bodyguard was no exception, even in the wake of his rejection of some of her earliest attempts.

She spins on him when they're walking through the gardens, and he tenses, subtly. His fingers twitch towards his blade and she laughs and waves him away.

"Sorry, sorry, I shouldn't have moved so quickly. There isn't any danger unless you consider my wanting to be your friend something of a danger to your reputation — or, say, the walls you put around yourself," she prods gently, teasingly, with a bright smile.

His eyes narrow down at her, and she lifts a pretty eyebrow in response to his silence, waiting.

"...I have no desire to be your friend, Princess."

"If I recall correctly, I never asked you to be my friend — I only said I wanted to be yours."

She laughs in the face of his confusion, the subtle draw of his brows, and turns back around to continue her walk and let him figure it out on his own.

"By the way," she calls over her shoulder, "I still don't know your name."

There's a silence so long she thinks he's going to ignore her and she takes it in stride, leaning over to inhale the sweet aroma of the gazanias — her favorite.

"Lucifer," he finally says, and she's so surprised she is nearly thrown off balance. She straightens up and she smiles back at him.

 **xxx**

They're in the garden again because it's Natalie's favorite spot. She's sitting amongst the rose bushes, dirtying her gown in the process, and he's leaning against a trellis, deceptively casual. He's watching her, but Natalie's learned to pinpoint the signs of him being on alert, too.

"You don't have to be so tense all the time, you know," she says, and his eyes, which had strayed to a bush to her left where a bird had rustled the leaves, snap back to hers. "I'm not in danger here."

His expression takes on some vague, strange cross of annoyed and amused and she's pleased to see something more than the typical cool detachment.

"So long as you're the princess, you're always in danger," he says.

"That's where you're wrong," she says, with a conspiratorial little smile, as if she knows something he doesn't.

"Oh?"

"Yes." She climbs to her feet and carefully steps over the meticulously arranged flowers. She stops right in front of him and looks up at him with that cheeky little grin. "So long as you're my bodyguard, everyone knows better than to come near me."

"Is that so?" he says, leaning down to challenge her. She laughs, a snarky reply on the tip of her tongue, but then the sunlight catches his eyes and she's immediately distracted by them.

She tilts her head in wonder, and he looks alarmed by the sudden change. He notices how close he is and reels back.

"What's with that dumb look, kid?"

"I —" she laughs at the nickname, thrilled he's become so casual with her, and leans back a little herself, cheeks turning pink, "I just never noticed how pretty your eyes were before. Did you know they had gold in them?"

He didn't, but he doesn't say so.

xxx

Her feet hurt and keeping her smile up is becoming a pain and her corset is tied too tightly and if she has to dance with another man more than two times her age with leering smiles and horrible breath she thinks she just might snap.

She's tired and while she's usually a fan of balls and getting to be sociable, tonight, for whatever reason, it's grating on her last nerve.

She curtsies to her partner when the song ends and hurries off the dance floor before another can snag her. Lucifer notices and immediately removes himself from the wall, where he'd been making himself scarce but ever-aware.

He doesn't need to ask, he quickly and quietly escorts her from the ballroom with a hand on the small of her back. She leans on his arm and he ignores the beat his heart skips.

He glances around before pulling open the doors to the garden for her, and guides her to a bench since she can't afford to be as careless as she usually is — her handmaidens would kill her if she got dirt and grass stains on her gown.

She kicks her slippers off and buries her toes in the grass, sighing in relief.

"Thank you," she breathes, after a minute of silence. "I don't know how much more of that I could've taken."

Even exhausted, she manages to smile at him. Lucifer tries not to notice how the moonlight makes her pale skin look ethereal.

"It's my job to protect you," he says, and she looks a little confused, as she hadn't been in any danger. "Even against creepy old men."

She laughs, holding her hands to her heart.

"My savior!" she cries teasingly. He rolls his eyes and they fall into silence again while Natalie readjusts to lay flat on her back on the cool stone bench and Lucifer shakes his head at her. She beckons to him and despite his better judgment he follows, sitting at the base of the bench.

She smiles at him and turns her eyes skyward, to look at the stars. She's quiet for several minutes, before she turns on her side to look at him. He turns his head to meet her eyes.

"You want to know something?" she asks, and she's so quiet he almost doesn't hear her even though he's barely a breath away.

"What?"

"Princesses are supposed to marry princes," she sighs, and there's this ugly sensation in his chest, "but I don't want a prince. I never have."

He's silent, just staring at her, wondering where she's taking this. The nasty little beast stops momentarily, and she smiles, green eyes bright.

She reaches out, brushing her fingertips against his cheek. His eyes widen, breath catching, and she drops her hand, turning to look at the stars again, oblivious to the effect she's had on him while she cradles her own fingers to her chest.

She doesn't say anything else but she doesn't need to.

"Funnily enough," he finally manages, and his voice is rough with emotion he tries so hard to contain, "I never wanted a princess, either."

She laughs, full and loud, and lets her hand dangle off the side of the bench. He takes her hint and grabs it, and she twines their fingers together.

Neither of them look at each other, and neither speak again.

They don't need to.


End file.
